Paint A Vulgar Picture
by little hecate
Summary: A plot bunny that has forced me into detailing the relationship between two Marauders and the events surrounding it.


Disclaimer: J a a 1 9 2001-11-09T19:50:00Z 2001-11-09T19:59:00Z 16 6133 34963 none 291 69 42937 9.2720 0 0 

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns and profits from the characters mentioned in this story. I am not.

A/N: This is all Rubicon's fault. She challenged me! Here's what I was given: Peter/Sirius, "What exactly does one do with a glass cock?", angst/humour (though I failed miserably at the latter part), and they help Peter's parents move. Some of the events and details have been altered in a minor fashion to make it work. Also, I tried really hard to make sure that I tied up everything and made sure that it all makes sense, but one or two things may have escaped me, so if something doesn't add up, please let me know. And the Smiths' song of the same title was sort of my inspiration, though not really. If you listen to the song, you'll understand what I mean. (Off of _Strangeways Here We Come_, if you wanted to know. Very cool. I highly recommend it.) Also deals with suicide.

Paint a Vulgar Picture

The people I meet always regard me with some measure of reservation and fear. They wonder how I could have survived twelve years in the worst shit hole ever to curse the face of the Earth with its presence. Sometimes, I wonder myself. But the answer to that is quite simple: I had no joy whatsoever for the Dementors to feed off of. These days, I have about as much joy as I had during those twelve long years I had to live like the dead. That is the most frightening aspect of myself, without a doubt. But what is even left to be happy about at all?

My lover is worse than dead. The love of my life, the person I always imagined I would die beside, is the living dead. He's got no soul to speak of anymore, though I often ask myself whether he ever had a soul or not. He stole my heart, made me fall in love with him only to turn around and ruin me. And James. And Lily. And Harry. And countless others.

Perhaps I am jumping ahead of myself. Let me start at the very beginning, at the day we arrived at Hogwarts to start our first year. There were four of us in Gryffindor: myself, Remus Lupin, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew. Remus, James, and I had become very fast friends. Peter, on the other hand, was rather quiet, reserved, and preferred to keep to himself. At the beginning of the year, he seemed to be nothing even remotely extraordinary. But by the end of our fifth year, I knew that Peter was so much more than extraordinary.

Peter had invited me to stay with him for a week during the summer holiday at the end of our fifth year. He and his parents were moving from their tiny flat in London to a small house in Birmingham. Such a change was a bit unsettling for Peter, who had always feared the unknown. I accepted his invitation gladly, as James and Remus had other obligations and were thus forced into declining.

The move itself went rather uneventfully. Everything had already been shipped when I arrived at the flat. It was the last time Peter and his parents would ever be in that flat ever again. We hurried along to his new house, which was a vast improvement over the flat they had lived in for as long as I had known them. His parents were off at work and we were left to start unpacking when Peter and I became more than friends.

Of everyone I have ever met in my entire life, Peter's parents had the strangest array of knick-knacks and things. Peter had pulled a glass sculpture of a rooster out of one of the boxes and I couldn't help but remark, "What exactly does one do with a glass cock?"

The sexual connotation didn't go unnoticed. "Would you like to find out?" he replied, with an expression I had never seen him wear.

Sexuality had never been an issue for me. I knew I was attracted to men and women alike, though I had no idea about Peter. He let very little of his personal traits become common knowledge, and those things that we did know about him only came with time. The expression on his face was undeniably suggestive and I found it extremely welcoming. "Are you offering to educate me, Peter?"

"Are you willing to learn?"

The image of Peter sitting there amidst boxes and newspaper, his golden hair framing his slender face, his green eyes burning, and his mouth quirked in a sensual smile will forever be burned into my mind's eye with astounding clarity. Even now I can see him as though it were yesterday that we sat in his new house with his parents' belongings surrounding us. I can still remember the clean smell that hung in the air and the sunlight that came through the windows, illuminating the area around us. I can still feel the shag carpeting under my bare feet.

"You have my _undivided attention. Please, explain away."_

He gently shook his head as he replied, "Explaining's kind of difficult."

"Oh? Then what did you have in mind?"

Closing the six inches of space between us, he leaned over and pressed his lips against mine. It was the beginning of my end in a very real way, but I don't regret a second of what passed between us in those easy years before Voldemort's war tore us apart. Just remembering what happened, I can still feel his cool and smooth lips against my own. I remember thinking that it was perfect, that Peter was something very, very wonderful. Though I still have no recollection of reaching out, I can still feel his hands in my own. I pulled him closer to me as I parted my lips and let my tongue come into contact with his. Electricity unlike that shit that Muggles use was flowing between us so strongly that I was sure that if anyone were to look in on us, they would see the currents binding us together. For the first time in all the time that I had known him, Peter was showing me real humanity, real emotion, real feeling, real everything. He'd let his shyness slip away to reveal something wholly beyond definition. He'd let down his guard and threw out his pretentious façade. At that moment I knew I was his indefinitely.

Even now, the memory of that one kiss brings me to my knees. I want him back so badly that it hurts. I want so badly for all those things that tore us apart to never have happened. I want to feel him in my arms again, feel safe again. Even after all the horrid things he did, I am still as in love with him now as I was that day so many years ago that we shared our first kiss. I miss him so desperately… I feel incomplete and a waste of space. I feel so empty and aching that there is nothing I wouldn't do to make it all just go away. There is nothing I wouldn't do to feel him beside me again, if only for a moment. But that is never going to happen.

Our lips had parted though our foreheads remained together as we sat there staring at each other for I don't know how long. I was so thrown by the sheer intensity of the moment that there was nothing that I could say. His face was so beautiful… pale skin flushed pink, green eyes burning with intensity such as I had never seen before, mouth slack. He was the embodiment of all the things I had ever desired from another human being. He was smart and sexy and kind and gentle and passionate and a thousand other things I admired. All at once, I realized that Peter was the person I had longed so long to meet and he was there all the time.

We finished the unpacking only moments before his parents returned home. Dinner was spent in agony; all I wanted was to be that close to him again. We spent that night in his bed, kissing for hours. All the rest would come in due time, so we savoured each other, learning the contours of one another's mouths by heart. I held his face in my hands and I remember thinking that there was nothing better than that. His skin was so soft and he was so open and on the same level with me like he had never been before. No words were spoken. We communicated only in simple gestures and familiarity.

Everything that Peter was, was absolutely fantastic. His sense of humour was stunning, his easy-going attitude forever my salvation, his capacity to love rivaled that of Aphrodite herself. We would do our homework in the dark, make love in the Forbidden Forest from dusk till dawn, and discuss ethics and philosophy until our throats ached. For me, Peter was the ultimate gift; the perfection I had never believed could be achieved. When it was just me and him, there was nothing that couldn't happen. The world was full of endless possibilities with Peter at my side.

First times are always burned into a person's brain, aren't they? I remember the first time we made love. We were in the middle of our sixth year. Christmas holiday. James and Remus had gone home, but Peter opted to stay and keep me company. We were the last ones in the common room on Christmas Eve, sitting in a chair in front of the fire just enjoying each other's company. He lay across my lap with his head resting on my chest as I ran my fingers through his hair. His eyes were closed and I remember thinking that he looked perfect. Like he will always look to me.

"Peter?" I whispered.

No response. He had fallen asleep. The thought made me smile. I was happy knowing that he felt safe enough in my arms to let himself fall asleep there. I carried him up the stairs to our dorm and laid him on his bed. As soon as I moved my arms from him, his eyes opened.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

I had been planning on sleeping in my own bed, as I didn't know what he would say if I were just to invite myself into his. "Nowhere, love," I replied as I sat down beside him.

"Please stay."

As soon as I lay down beside him, his arms went around my neck and his mouth found mine. Our kisses became hotter and the usual touching was turning more intense. His slim fingers began unbuttoning my robe. I can remember it as clear as day. His whole body trembled as I stripped him of his clothing and I remember feeling powerful. I remember the silk of his skin under my fingers feeling almost unreal. Peter always had the softest skin. Everything about him was so perfect. All the other boys envied Peter his good looks. Though he was never particularly popular, he was the wet dream of many a Hogwarts student. He was strong and slender, his complexion was flawless, his was the ideal beauty.

The last of our clothing thrown aside, Peter pulled the blanket down and lay back. That image of Peter is burned into my memory with a thousand others just like it. Legs spread, skin flushed, mouth curled into a small smile, and fire in his eyes, he was my Pan, my nymph, my perfect lover. He handed me a small tube and I gave him a questioning glance.

"Really, Sirius, you didn't think I was unprepared, did you?" he teased.

"You've been planning this, then?"

"Merry Christmas," he replied with an impish grin. "Would you like some help with that, or are you just going to stare at me?"

Before I had the chance to answer, he had taken the tube from me and squeezed some of the transparent gel into my hand. He grabbed my wrist and placed my hand at the opening to his body. The way he gasped as he threw his head back when I slid my fingers inside of him…

It hurts to think about it. It hurts to think that he was so perfect and honest and… all of it changed in a split second. I cannot keep the memories from fighting their way to the front of my mind. I remember every single time we kissed. I remember every single time we made love. I remember every single time he laughed. And every time one of those memories fights its way into my consciousness, I am overtaken with utter desolation. My pain does not lie with my own naivete or ignorance; my pain lies with Peter himself.

After graduation we all went our separate ways. James and Lily went into Auror training, Remus went off to fight the dark forces of the world, and Peter and I moved into a flat of our own. He got a job at a local apothecary and I was working with my father, making custom brooms. Life was quiet and ordinary. Everything was just the way I had always wanted it to be.

Unbeknownst to most of the world, a crackpot who called himself Lord Voldemort was building his ranks and planning to take over the world. I was not aware of him at the time of graduation, though Peter had begun to show an interest in his activities. Unfortunately, I didn't know this until it was much too late. But I am getting ahead of myself. That part of my tale will come in due time.

Voldemort's war broke out a year and half after we graduated from Hogwarts. A band of people who called themselves Death Eaters staged attacks all over Britain. They attacked wizards and Muggles alike. They had no discretion when it came to murder. Everything was in chaos. No one could be trusted. The only things that I felt were reliable in those times of destruction were Peter, James, Lily, and Dumbledore. They were all I had left; my father had been a casualty of one of the Death Eater's raids and who knew where Remus was.

James and Lily had become Aurors who worked with the Ministry. They were so successful, it seemed only a matter of time before Voldemort was destroyed and order was reinstated. A year and a half after the war began, they set a date for their wedding. It was June. Peter and I attended together, as was expected of us. Remus made his first public appearance in years. It was a good time.

The reception found Peter and I sitting at one of the tables farthest removed from those around us. We were each drinking from our own bottle of wine, and I still don't know where they came from. We were just sitting there and giggling, but not doing or saying anything of any substance. Remus soon joined us, and James not long after. The four of us were pretty good and knackered before a whole lot of time had passed. We were sitting there like we did when we were at Hogwarts, discussing light topics for a change. Quidditch was always a prominent topic of conversation amongst us. That conversation led to a story told by Remus of James' antics at a particular game during our seventh year wherein he had knocked Lucius Malfoy from his broom right into Hagrid's pumpkin patch. He was picking pulp out of his hair for weeks after that.

It was then that Peter first hinted at his allegiance with the Dark Lord, though none of us knew it at the time. He said, once the laughter had died down, "I'll really miss you guys."

"Where you going, Peter?" James asked, starting to giggle once more.

"I'm not going anywhere. I mean, if something happens to one of us someday… ***hiccup* Never can tell, y' know," he answered with a grin. At the time, we were all far too inebriated to give the remark a whole lot of consideration. I only recalled that particular moment long after the fact, long after it was too late.**

"Can't get much worse than this, though," I said, not even paying any heed to Peter's remark. "Our little Jamie's finally officially got a ball and chain."

"Sirius Black!" Lily called from somewhere behind me. "Since when was I ever a ball and chain?" she asked with a smile as she took a seat between James and myself. She took the bottle from my hand and joined our little group.

Lily Evans was the un-official fifth Marauder when we were at Hogwarts, and the only girl we allowed in. Lily never got on with the other girls all that well; she always preferred our company. She and James weren't always an item. That only came to pass during our sixth year. Lily, unbeknownst to literally everyone else in the world, became an Animagus as well. She chose a panther as her animal, and it suited her well. She was only too eager to surprise Remus along with the rest of us, and she also wanted to be able to defend if the need arose. She was always very thoughtful and brave. Lily almost never put herself before anyone else; she was the most considerate individual I have ever met in my life. I miss her dearly.

"Since ***checks watch* two hours ago."**

"You make that sound like a bad thing," she replied as she took another drink from the bottle she'd nicked from me.

Another thing about Lily was her lack of self-consciousness. Most of the girls at Hogwarts were nothing even remotely like Lily, which was probably why the three of us (meaning Remus, Peter, and myself) had no interest in them whatsoever. She used to drink with us when we could find a bottle of something. She used to play Quidditch with us when we'd organize a game. Lily was a boy in girl's skin, without a doubt, and that was one of her finer qualities.

"Nah. If it were a bad thing I don't think we'd be here," Peter answered for me. He always used to finish my thoughts and sentences for me. Some find that sort of thing rather irritating, but I always thought it charming.

The wedding was held at James' parents' house, so none of us were in much of a hurry to leave. Until four in the morning, the five of us sat around the table in the back yard, drinking, telling stories, and talking of future plans. It was the first time that all the Marauders had all been together at the same time since graduation. It was such a long overdue occasion that we made a point to enjoy it to the fullest. Despite all the destruction and chaos in the rest of the world, we found a time and a place where none of it existed. We found a time and a place that we could pretend that it was always that way and always would be. The next day, we would all go back to our jobs and our homes and fight the good fight again.

A year after they were married, James and Lily had their son, Harry. Harry's birth seemed to put the Potter's at more of a risk. They were being hunted. Someone was leaking information to the Dark side and giving away their location. At the time, none of us knew why they were wanted so badly or why Harry was the starting point. Remus had once again disappeared after the wedding and only came back for a visit when Harry was a few weeks old.

Once Remus had gone, Lily arrived with Harry at my flat. Peter was still at work, and she seemed more than relieved. She had become exceptionally paranoid. She kept looking around as though she expected some horrible beast to jump out at her at any moment.

"Sirius, I don't have long, but I need to ask a favour of you," she said, not even bothering to sit down.

"What's the problem?"

"Will you be our secret keeper?" she whispered as though the very walls were listening. "There's no one else I can trust, Sirius." Tears filled her eyes as she spoke those last few words.

"I'll do anything for you."

From then on, I was their secret keeper, but they were still being closely followed. How anyone knew where they were was beyond me. I never told anyone about anything that even remotely related to the Potter's living quarters. As the war intensified, I was also being hunted. Thousands of times, I was assaulted by some masked figure or another. It was getting out of hand, and I couldn't hope to keep their secret any longer for fear that I would eventually be captured, so I persuaded them to change to Peter. He was the most unlikely suspect, so I felt that there was nothing to be lost in suggesting him. It was Remus that I feared was giving James and Lily away.

Not even I knew where they went after I resigned from my position as secret keeper. For a month after Peter had accepted the offer everything was fine. They were not found out, and they were finally starting to relax.

On the night of…. Peter didn't come home. I was panicking that something had happened to him until I heard the news that James and Lily were dead and Lord Voldemort was defeated. Without a second thought, I rushed to Godric's Hollow, where the decimated house lay. I pulled Harry out and brought him to Rubeus Hagrid. I gave him my bike when I realised what this meant.

No one aside from James, Lily, and myself knew that Peter was their secret keeper. Everyone that mattered thought that it was I who sold them out. Though I knew the truth, I wanted to deny it. I didn't want to believe that Peter had been captured and tortured until he gave the information Voldemort wanted to hear. What I wanted to believe even less was that he had done it of his own free will.

That night was spent in agony, waiting to be picked up by the Ministry and having not heard from Peter, I was going insane. When no Ministry officials showed up, I went to the café across the street for a cup of coffee when I saw Peter.

Tears were in his eyes, he was covered in blood, and his face was bruised as all get out. I thought he'd been tortured until he began to speak. "Sirius," he whined. "How could you?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The truth I had tried to deny all night was rearing its ugly head at me. "Peter? What are you talking about?"

"You sold them, Sirius. Why? Why?" he was sounding like a madman who had just realised that he was going to be institutionalised.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I backed away from him, right into a dead end. Everyone on the street around us stopped to watch. All were Muggles, not a single witch or wizard among them. He kept approaching, whining and crying about how I sold the Potters to Voldemort. There was nothing I could say. I couldn't think of anything except that I was watching the man I had loved more than life itself for the past seven years make a scene, call me a murderer. My heart was breaking.

For a split second, I was looking not at Peter the Traitor, but Peter my Lover of Seven Years. I remember thinking that it was all a dream and I would wake up and he would be beside me in the bed we'd shared for the last five years. I remember thinking that he needed his wounds cleaned and I remember wanting to take him in my arms and soothe the pains I knew he was feeling.

Despite the awful truth, I was half convinced that he really had been tortured and that it was I who had wronged the Potters. I remember looking at Peter for the last time and I thought he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. The bruises on his face and the blood on his robe only added to it. His golden hair was tainted with blood and messy as James' was. His green eyes were screaming the same thing they'd always screamed: I love you and I will never hurt you. The tears that fell from them were honest tears of grief, for that brief moment.

My hands hung at my sides. My wand was still in my pocket, and I didn't even try to reach for it. All I could do was stand there and watch as he cast a curse and with a blinding flash of light, he was gone. Muggles were laying all around the hole that had been created when the curse hit. Numbed, all I could do was stand there and laugh.

Ministry officials carried me off, and I was still laughing. Laughing to keep from crying. For twelve long years after that, I laughed to keep from crying. Those twelve years are still a haze. The days blended together. The months and the weeks and the years blended together until I thought that I really was in hell. I was sure that somewhere along the way I had died and was serving my eternal sentence in hell itself.

The _Daily Prophet boasted a picture of the Weasley family, complete with Peter in his Animagus form. The moment I saw it, I knew that I hadn't died. All I could think of was how I wanted to find him, wanted to make him pay for what he did. I became obsessed with finding him. All the love that I had once felt for him was replaced with a burning, blinding hatred._

You know all about my escape and the confrontation in the Shrieking Shack, so I shall not bore you with my account of it. I will tell you, however, that not a word of what I said to him about hating him was true. Not one insult that I threw at him was true. At the time, I was so overcome with grief-induced madness that I said a multitude of things that I would have said to whomever it had been that'd sold them. It wasn't Peter I was yelling at, it was the perpetrator of the crime that I was screaming at. It was almost inconsequential that he had to be in Peter's body.

This was five years ago, now. Voldemort is dead now, for good. Harry is dead with him. A year they've been gone and still I expect Harry to walk through the door every night. He came to live with Remus and I after his fifth year when his family was destroyed. For two years, he was the light in our lives and then he was taken as his parents were taken, but not before he destroyed his destroyer. Harry died bravely, fighting like his parents fought. Though I miss him with everything I have, I am still beyond proud of him.

Peter turned himself in. He waltzed right into the Ministry's main office and declared that it was he who had wronged the world and he had come to claim his punishment. I was notified through Dumbledore that he was in the Ministry's custody and was awaiting his execution. Finally it was safe for me to come out of hiding, though the thought gave me no joy.

Without so much as a second thought, I apparated to the Ministry offices. I was going to face him, whether they liked it or not. The woman behind the desk nearly fainted when I walked through the door and demanded to see Peter that instant. She tried to deny me, but I just screamed at her. She was so frightened that she sent me up to the forty-third floor, where he was being held.

"I want to see him," I told the guard.

"No one's allowed in," he replied coolly, though the look on his face revealed the apprehension he was obviously feeling.

"I demand to see him," I repeated.

For an eternal moment, we stared at each other. His face set and he replied very quietly, "Only for a few minutes."

No sooner had he unlocked the door, I pushed past him into the dimly lit room. In the dead centre was a small cage like one might see at a zoo. It was empty except for a cot and a very gaunt man sitting upon it. The opening of the door caused him to raise his head. He didn't turn away or make a single sound. He just stared at me as I approached.

"Hello, Peter," I said, trying to keep the tears in my eyes from spilling. This was not the man who had grovelled at my feet and the feet of children in the Shrieking Shack that night so long ago. This was not the man who I had fallen in love with and served twelve years in prison for. This was a cheap imitation of the Peter I once knew.

"There's no use in apologising," he whispered, "though I am sorry." I noticed that he was missing his hand when he crossed his arms over chest.

"Why?" was all I could ask him; that was the only question I knew I could ask articulately, despite the fact that there were millions running rampantly through my mind.

"Cowardice. Delusions of grandeur. Stupidity. Selfishness. Self hatred," he answered in a whisper. "And if you believe nothing else that I tell you, believe that I _do hate myself."_

This _was the Peter I had fallen for and spent the best years of my life with. This was the same Peter who had kissed me in his parents' house, who had written me thousands of love poems over seven years, and who had taught me how to cook like Muggles cook. This was the man who had sold his friends and brought back the worst of the worst. And this man was waiting to die._

"Would you really have died for me, Sirius?" he asked.

"A thousand times, a thousand different ways, and I still would," I answered as the tears I'd been holding in for seventeen years finally began to trail down my face.

Smiling sadly through his own tears, he said, "You're too good for me, you know. You always were. I still can't figure out why you ever loved me."

"Sometimes, neither can I," I replied before I could stop myself. "But what I can't figure out is how I never saw that you didn't love me."

He winced before he continued. "Never say that, Sirius. I don't expect you to believe me or forgive me for what I've done. I never stopped loving you. I never will."

"Then why did you betray them? Why did you betray _me?"_

"I wanted to save you, Sirius."

"Save _me? I spent twelve fucking years in prison in your stead, Peter, and you expect me to believe that you did what you did for my own good? You stood in the street and broke my fucking heart because it was the __best thing for me? You flushed all my hopes down the drain and murdered the two greatest people ever to walk the Earth because you wanted to __save me?" I shouted. All the things I'd wanted to say for seventeen years were finally being said. "I don't want any sugar-coated lies, Peter. Please just tell me why."_

"They were going to kill you, Sirius!" he shouted. "They were going to kill you if I didn't do what I was told. I didn't want to hurt them. I never wanted to hurt anyone. But if sacrificing the Potters meant that you would be safe, then so be it. Do you want to know why I joined with him in the first place? I did it because I was a fucking coward, Sirius. I did it because I didn't want you to suffer the same fate as everyone else. I thought that if I joined with him, we would be safe. We wouldn't have to fear for our lives and if he won, we wouldn't be apart."

"Fuck that! Do you really expect me to believe that you did what you did out of the goodness of your heart?"

"No, I don't. But it is the truth. It doesn't really matter anymore whether you believe me or not. It might have mattered four years ago when there was still some hope. It might have mattered if you hadn't spat on me when I begged your forgiveness. It might have mattered if you hadn't tried to fucking kill me!"

"What was I supposed to do? What? Go on with my life as though you never did what you did? Pretend that James and Lily were victims of circumstance instead of cowardice and hatred?"

"I was prepared to go to Azkaban that night. I was ready to serve my sentence and get my just dessert," he sobbed.

"Then why didn't you?" I shouted at him. Anger had replaced my sadness and all I wanted was to hear him say that he really was horrid and I really was an idiot for being taken in by him in the first place.

"I couldn't die knowing that you hated me and knowing that there was still so much destruction yet to come! I couldn't die without telling what I knew and you never gave me a chance to explain!"

"And why did you bring him back?"

"To right the wrong that I committed seventeen fucking years ago! He couldn't ever die unless he was really alive. Being in a half existence meant that he could come back whenever. He would have kept coming back, Sirius. I had to bring him back so that he could just fucking die!"

"And why did you let me rot in that fucking hell hole, Peter? Why did you stick around, living as a pet for so fucking long?"

"Because he wasn't dead. He didn't die when his curse rebounded on him. He was already too close to finding immortality that he couldn't die that way. I knew it. I knew of his motivations and I knew how he had nearly perfected himself. Harry was the last obstacle for him to overcome. I knew they would die to save him. I knew that Harry was the only one who could ever defeat him. He even knew it. Why do you think he went after James and Lily to begin with? They were fantastic Aurors, without a doubt. But they weren't what he wanted. Harry had all the power of both of them combined, and he always would. That is why he had to be gotten rid of. That is why Voldemort wanted him so badly. With Harry out of the way, there would be no one to stop him. I didn't want for Harry to die. So I sold his parents, I admit it. I sold them so that he might grow up and eventually defeat him. I knew more about Voldemort than he knew about himself, and I also knew that I didn't have the power necessary to defeat him myself. Harry was special, Sirius. He was one of less than a handful of people who would have had that power. There are some people that are born with very rare gifts, and Harry just happened to be the one who was geographically the closest. I let you go to Azkaban because I had to find a way to bring him back once Harry was capable enough to fight him. I couldn't have done it right away, he was far too young and he had no idea how to harness his abilities. It was so easy for me to find Voldemort, you don't know. I could have done it at any time. But I didn't because I wanted the world to have a chance. What I did was stupid, I know, and not a single day goes by that I don't wish that there was some other way. I did what I did because I thought it was the best thing that I could do. I turned myself in, Sirius, because it's finally over and it is time for me to right that wrong. I love you and I never stopped and I will love you for eternity. I don't ask for your forgiveness, all I ask is for your understanding."

He was sitting on the floor, his hand wrapped around one of the bars that separated us. Tears streamed down his face and for the first time in almost twenty years, I saw the man I loved and hated and loved still. He never changed. He was never evil. He was only doing what he felt was best. I sat on the floor in front of him and placed my hand on his, my forehead against his through the bars. For the longest moment we stared like we used to stare, silently crying together.

Neither of us realised that several guards and other Ministry officials had entered the room until I was pulled up by my arms. For a moment, I fought them; I just wanted to touch him. I just wanted him for a moment longer. I just wanted to feel him close to me, just for a moment.

"Come, Sirius," Dumbledore said very quietly as he tried to lead me out of the room. "It's time."

"No. No. Not yet. _Please," I sobbed. "Please just give me a moment."_

"No, Sirius," he said firmly.

The door of the cage swung open and Peter let himself be shackled. Dumbledore was showing strength that I didn't know a man his age could possess in dragging me to the door. He relaxed his grip on me and as soon as he did, I was out of his grasp and running to the group of guards that surrounded Peter. Pushing them out of the way, I fought my way to Peter's side. I kissed him as quickly as I could and as I felt him respond, I was pulled away again.

"Let them say their goodbyes," Dumbledore told them and they let me go.

They turned their backs and I once again stood in front of him. "Sirius, you need to go now," he whispered as fresh tears began running down his face. "I love you."

Answering him with a kiss, he smiled up at me as he continued to cry. "I love you," I whispered.

"Please tell Remus that I'm sorry," he said as they led him towards a door on the opposite side of the room.

"Of course."

"I love you," he repeated as he disappeared through the door, leaving me feeling cold and hollow.

Remus sneered when I told him what Peter had said. "Why do you believe him?" he demanded when I was through with the story. I couldn't answer because I didn't know how. All I could do was sit silent and cry as his expression altered from disgust to pity. "I'm sorry, Sirius, but you do realise how difficult this is for me to grasp, don't you? He who was so frightened of the consequences of his actions that he dared to grovel at the feet of the boy he made an orphan."

"He never lied, and you know it. He was pathetic and worthless, true, but he never lied about anything," I raised my voice over his, trying to defend my position.

"How long can you play that card, Sirius? I've heard this a thousand times before, and I don't need to hear it again," he protested as he raised a hand.

"Fuck that. I heard it from his own mouth. Peter has _never lied. And I certainly wouldn't be defending him at this very moment if those words __hadn't come out of his mouth."_

He went quiet for a moment, brow furrowing in thought. He stated a moment later, "If I know nothing else about you, I do know that you never fight without proof. I shall take your word for it. In that case, I will indeed attend his funeral with you."

And here he is, and here we are, and there goes Peter, six feet under. We're the last of the infamous Hogwarts Marauders. James and Lily and now Peter have passed along. Harry has passed along, hand in hand with two of his own clan. Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are gone, as well. Just a little less than a month ago, Draco slit his arm open in a warm bath. He couldn't live without Harry, so he took matters into his own hands Hermione went just before Harry. She died trying to intervene when a Death Eater attacked a small girl. They were just two more casualties in a petty fucking dispute and power induced madness.

I can't help but wonder if what Peter said was true, that Voldemort had to be disposed of only after Harry was a capable wizard. I can't help but wonder if what he did was truly the only thing he could have done. I can't help but wonder how things might be different today if he hadn't sold James and Lily. No, he didn't sell them, he did what he thought was the right thing to do. I can't help but wonder if Harry and Draco and Hermione would still be here if he hadn't brought him back. I wonder… if he hadn't done what he did, would he be by my side even now? If he hadn't done it, would James and Lily still be here? Would any of us still be here?

At this juncture, the point is pretty well moot. I've got nothing anymore. Remus is all I've got left, but he's not even really here anymore, either. He's living in a dream world even more severe than my own. I think he still thinks that Snape's going to come home one night like nothing ever happened. He's dead just like everyone else and has been since before Harry came to live with us. Remus never did deal well with death. Now both our mates are buried. Seems like we're finally in the same boat after all.

The only difference between our situations is that he's going to go on like he always has when that's the last thing that I could do. From Peter himself I was told that it was all a grand mistake. Peter himself told me that he was sorry and that he would change it if he could. How am I supposed to deal with that? It was so much easier when I thought I was wrong. I can handle being wrong. But then he had to turn around and tell me that I was right all along. He could have changed it and that is what hurts the most.

Good, bar's almost empty. Remus has been following me to the pubs I frequently go to these days. Well, I've been frequenting them since late last week after I saw Peter for the last time. So my name is clear. Big fucking deal. So I can drink out in public. Big mother fucking deal. So I've got someone else who will drown his sorrows in a glass right along beside me. Big deal.

"Lies and violence and bullshit," I hear Remus mutter as he stares down into his coffee and Bailey's. "Sadly, Peter, this was your life. And you could have said 'no' if you wanted to. You could have walked away."

"And left the rest of to suffer a worse fate."

"How can you say that? You spent twelve years in Azkaban, Sirius," he says as he looks up from his cup.

"Yes, I am well aware of how much time I spent and where it was that I spent it in. Though, you may be right. Death would probably be a better option."

"Don't say that." He's got no conviction for what he's saying. Not that it matters. He's not been very convicted to what he's said for a very long time now.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

He's got nothing to say to that. Just like I knew he wouldn't. He's giving his attention to the mug in front of him instead of to me and I like it that way. Few more drinks and I should be all good and set to pass out for a while. Fuck that. I'm tired of waking up at the end of it. I don't want to wake up anymore. There's nothing beautiful to wake up to anymore. Art isn't beautiful when the only pictures one can paint are vulgar and twisted ones. Every time I wake up the first picture I see is that of Peter's life and my life and what it isn't. I see what it could have been and then what it is and I'm fucking sick of staring at it all the damn time.

"I'm going home."

He stares up at me as I throw a few bills on the table. "I'll be along soon."

Remus really is a beautiful man. He is very soft. Everything about him is very, very soft. From his light brown eyes to his greying hair to his jaw bone… I feel sorry for him. He should have someone around who can appreciate it. I never could because I'm far too hardened for it. I've got more solid features and I can't help but wonder if that's a part of the difference. I wonder if those who have softer features are always softer inside, too. And people like me are always more cynical and tainted. It fits.

Home. Somehow, when I was younger, I never thought that a place like this could ever be home. Remus and I have lived here for two years now and I still don't own a single thing. I sleep on his couch under his blankets and wake up and eat his food. I shower in his tub, dry with his towels, and always he insists that it is mine as well. Though it is wonderful of him to think so, I am slightly disgusted by it. I hate stuff. I don't want any stuff. At least in not having anything I can just pass along and it won't really upset anything.

Draco had the right idea. The bath here fills up quickly. Times like these make me grateful for it. And the fact that neither of us cook much kind of ensures that the knives are sharp. I never thought I'd die like this. I never really thought about how I would die. It was never much of a concern. And really, it still isn't. And this way the mess will be much easier to clean up. I don't want to seem inconsiderate. Hell, I've been pretty inconsiderate in hanging around so bloody long, I might as well be polite about it when I go, right? Right. It will be nice for Remus to not have to worry about me anymore. He can live his own life without me to bring him down. He likes living alone and he'll like it much better than living with me. If he can even tell the difference.

Draco _definitely_ had the right idea. Though I'm not too sure I really deserve to be feeling so peaceful, this is the happiest I've felt in twenty years. God, I've not taken a bath in years. Showers are much quicker. But I like this. And my arm doesn't even hurt. I wonder if it should? I guess I always imagined that a bastard such as myself would have to feel pain when he died. Perhaps I'm just too drunk to notice. Well. I wonder if this is dying or if I'm just falling asleep. Not much longer, Peter. Not much longer at all. Now I can be another body in your vulgar picture. At least we can be vulgar together. Forever. Amen. *laughs weakly* And Harry and Draco, too. Cool.

So? Did I make it sound plausible? Any glaring errors that I should be aware of? Was it worth the read? Review! Cheers!


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